


Unforgettable

by getoffmyhead



Series: Unforgettable [4]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, Geno Never Joined the NHL, M/M, Meeting Families, Resolution, Team Canada, Team Russia, World Cup 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getoffmyhead/pseuds/getoffmyhead
Summary: Sid never let himself imagine Zhenya coming to Pittsburgh, but fate stepped in. For their final pretournament game before the World Cup, Team Russia was coming to the Consol to play Team Canada. Sure, they still had issues, and maybe Zhenya had to anger his KHL team by coming, but it was happening. Zhenya was coming to Pittsburgh, and then after that, they were meeting each other's parents in Toronto for the tournament games.When he arrived, Zhenya occasionally seemed--off. It was only sometimes, out of the corner of Sid's eye, like maybe Zhenya was nervous about something, like maybe he had a secret.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Series: Unforgettable [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559743
Comments: 44
Kudos: 197





	Unforgettable

**Author's Note:**

> It's done! Thank you so very much to those of you who read each part as they came out. You have no idea the motivation that gave me to get it all finished up as quickly as I could.

**Pittsburgh  
2016**

It was no coincidence that Flower came to Sid’s house unannounced the day Team Russia arrived in Pittsburgh. He was peering around Sid before the door swung entirely open. Sid crossed his arms, fighting a smile, and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “Can I help you?”

Flower thrust a purple bottle at him. “Vero sent me.”

“Vero sent you with--” Sid looked down to read the bottle. It took him a second to translate the French text. “Bubble bath?”

“Lavender,” Flower explained--somehow he made even a shrug look impish. “She says it is good for stress.”

Sid didn't believe Vero was responsible for the gift any more than he bought Flower was coincidentally dropping by a few hours before the plane landed. “I don’t take baths.” He always got bored just--sitting there. Showers were faster.

“That explains the smell,” Flower quipped. “Are you going to let me in?”

Sid gave him a lane, and Flower dove through it, eyes darting around. “He’s not here yet,” Sid laughed at his back, watching him look for clues about Zhenya’s whereabouts.

“How do you know I’m here to meet him?” Flower asked while actively pacing up the hall to peek into the den.

“A hunch. You can stop looking. He’s not even landing until eight.”

Flower turned on him in a huff. “You could have said that.”

“I just did,” Sid said, pulling the biggest grin he could muster just to make Flower crazy. Truthfully, Sid didn’t tell anyone when Zhenya was coming in, in part because he worried Zhenya would not actually show up.

Zhenya’s departure from Magnitogorsk would cause a stir--that’s what Zhenya said. Well, Zhenya used the colorful Russian term for shit-show--one of the few colloquialisms Sid managed to commit fully to memory in his slow acquisition of the language. Rosetta Stone didn’t exactly cover regional curse words.

For years, nobody actually expected the World Cup to happen as planned in 2016--the tournament was notorious for postponing and canceling. Sid certainly never held his breath about it. But talks about the Cup started heating up not long after they left Prague and kept going strong until it looked like the games might actually go ahead this time.

Of course, Sid wasn’t paying any attention to the World Cup then. He spent that summer after Worlds far more focused on whether his relationship had a future. They went together to Ibiza and spent every day in the sunshine, overlooking the crystal-blue water. They talked, and Zhenya reassured Sid that they would work despite the distance. Wrapped up in Zhenya, sleeping beside him every night for weeks without interruption, it felt like looking for trouble to think about the difficulties facing them. So, Sid let himself be lulled.

Then, in December, pretournament games were announced. Sid woke up to an ecstatic call from Zhenya talking fast about a game at the Consol Energy Center, and at first, he didn’t catch on. “Yeah, the Penguins--”

“No, Sid! Russia. _We_ play in Pittsburgh!”

Sure enough, the final pretournament game before the World Cup kicked off in Toronto was being held at the Consol--Team Canada versus Team Russia. What had felt like a pipedream of a 2016 World Cup now felt entirely tangible. The impossible tournament was now bringing Zhenya directly to Sid in Pittsburgh.

It all felt inevitable until August when the KHL decided it didn’t want to postpone the season to allow for the World Cup. It was the situation Zhenya had dreaded, relying solely on Metallurg Magnitogorsk to grant him leave to join the national team.

Still, Zhenya seemed hopeful. They won the Gagarin Cup again in the spring with Zhenya leading them in scoring. Surely they owed him the opportunity to go to the World Cup.

But the team said no.

“It’s so important I play,” Zhenya sneered on the phone with Sid after he talked to the team, voice heavy with emotion. “Beat Traktor six game, we will for sure win again.”

Sid had deflated at Zhenya’s words and stumbled to sit on his couch. He had _so_ hoped that the tournament would give them some much-needed time together after being shorted out of their summer. With their second championship in three years, Metallurg garnered a lot more attention than they did the first time they won. It meant the team kept Zhenya busy attending press and mandatory celebrations.

While Sid was still reeling from the loss, Zhenya sniffed and said, “I come anyways.”

“What?”

“I go to camp for Metallurg, but then I leave. I go to World Cup.”

“Z...Are you sure that’s a good idea? That’s going to make them really upset--”

“Fuck them, _I’m_ really upset,” Zhenya said. “I see you like one week this summer.”

It was barely an exaggeration. They met up a couple of times--in Crete and then briefly in Stockholm. The rest of the summer they spent on opposite sides of the globe. The distance between them had never seemed so far as when they effectively had their summer taken away.

“I have already tell my mother and my father to pack, I have buy them ticket for Canada. I am come.”

Even after his assertion, exhausted and despondent, Sid hadn’t really believed him. He thought Zhenya would try to tell his team and get shot down, and then they would go on as though he’d never said anything. But Zhenya kept saying it. He texted a picture of his mother getting her passport renewed. Then he sent a video of his father saying the phrase, “Where is the restroom,” over and over again, working out of a phrasebook of English while Zhenya snorted laughter in the background.

When Zhenya joined Team Russia for practice in defiance of his KHL team’s wishes, it made a few small waves in the Russian media. Mostly, after the first, tense day, he seemed to get away with it. By the time the team played their first pretournament exhibition game in St. Petersburg, the drama seemed to have calmed down--at least, that’s what Zhenya told Sid.

Sid kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. He played in his first pretournament game in Columbus with his heart in his throat, expecting any minute to hear that Zhenya abruptly had to return home. But Zhenya left Russia to play in Prague without any issue. And then, the day after they each played their second pretournament game, Zhenya sent a text with Team Russia’s plane info.

Excited as he was, Sid let it slip to Flower while they were skating that morning. He wasn’t at all surprised that the result was a nosy visitor now digging through his pantry for a granola bar.

“You know that’s basically candy.”

“You’re lecturing me about groceries _you_ bought,” Flower said. He took a bite and continued with a mouthful of honey and oats. “When are you leaving?”

“Leaving?”

“For the airport. I’ll hold down the fort here and wait.”

“That’s not really how this works.”

“I won’t stay long. I just want to _meet_ him. Shake his hand. Tell him I’ll send bees to his house if he hurts you. The usual.”

“You _have_ met him. And shaken his hand,” Sid pointed out.

“On ice--doesn’t count.” Flower took another bite. “Come on, you’ve been seeing this guy like six years--”

“_Two_ years,” Sid corrected because it wasn’t like hooking up in 2010 actually counted. Sid regretted getting tipsy at a team holiday party and telling Flower that part of the story.

“I know how you fear commitment,” Flower said matter-of-factly as if he knew anything at all. “But you can’t just casually date someone forever. Distance or no, he has to meet your family.”

“He _is_ going to meet my family,” Sid said, because he did _not_ fear commitment. In fact, he feared the opposite--that the distance wasn’t getting any easier over time. He worried that, despite their work on their relationship over the past year, they still might not last because of it. “In Toronto. He’s bringing his folks, I’m bringing mine. Taylor is coming. You could have joined us there if you took the offer.”

Flower wrinkled his nose and shook his head. He never opted to join another national team after his first Olympics, preferring to stay with his wife and children. “Thankfully, he can meet your brother here.”

“My brother, eh?” Sid asked with an arched eyebrow.

Flower shrugged remorselessly, as though he’d done nothing more than state a simple fact, and Sid fought to keep his mocking smile from becoming something genuine.

“Sorry. I’m not picking him up from the airport.”

“Sidney!”

“No, not because I didn’t _want_ to--he’s just coming in with his team. Going to a hotel. Then--”

Well, then Sid wasn’t sure. Zhenya said they would meet, but he wasn’t totally clear about when. It depended on when Zhenya could get away from his teammates and get free.

Flower was looking at him with apprehension written on every line of his face, as though he’d just figured out something terrible.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s just tough for him. His KHL team--they’re skittish about him being here since it’s where he wanted to go in the first place. They think he might just not come back. He has to toe the line with Team Russia, so Metallurg doesn’t, like--”

“What? Get ninjas to kidnap him, bring him back?”

Knowing what he knew now about Metallurg, Sid couldn’t say he’d be one-hundred percent surprised if that happened. He shrugged. “He just doesn’t want any trouble.”

Flower breathed an audible sigh. “I am going to have to send bees, aren’t I?”

Sid snorted. “Stop, he’s not hurting me. We’re in it together.” Both of them working as a unit to make sure Zhenya could return to the team that ultimately might tear them apart, but he wasn’t going to say that much. A mix of emotions swirled around inside Sid, the cocktail he usually felt when overthinking about the realistic longevity of his relationship: dread and fear and worry and--underneath it all--a relentless hope that kept him from giving up even if it turned out to be a foolish pursuit.

Flower didn’t look particularly reassured, but he acquiesced to let it drop. “Fine, I will let you have your schemes. You can introduce me another day.”

“Still got a couple of hours before he lands,” Sid said, softening. “Halo?”

Time went faster with Flower to keep him company. Sid barely noticed when the sun went down while they campaigned across alien worlds, shooting their way through increasingly gnarly situations. He only realized the time when his alarm went off, signaling Zhenya’s arrival.

“I suppose that is my cue to leave,” Flower said, rising. “I _will_ meet him. Tell him he cannot escape me.”

“I’ll let him know, for sure,” Sid chuckled as he walked Flower out.

In the silence left behind, time crawled to a stop. Sid tried to keep himself from looking at his phone, resorting to pacing the halls aimlessly.

His phone finally _finally_ buzzed in his hand, and he jumped before looking. It was a picture, a selfie of Zhenya with a tired grin and the skyline of Pittsburgh behind him. Sid felt faint with another cocktail of emotion: relief and joy and love.

_I can’t believe you’re here!_

Sid thought for a second before saying anything else. He didn’t want to be too pushy, not knowing what Zhenya’s circumstances would be.

_When can I see you?_

_I will come._

Well, that didn’t tell him anything. Sid waited, but Zhenya didn’t say any more.

Sid paced a while more, disappointment flooding into his limbs instead of excitement. He knew ahead of time that they would be facing some additional challenges in Pittsburgh--that there were people on Team Russia who Zhenya feared would report back to his team. Zhenya might have a lot of eyes on him. But he had seemed so sure that he would be able to sneak away during the two days they were in the city.

The doorbell jerked Sid out of his pouting, and his heart jumped back into a staccato. It was late, long after sundown. Sid couldn’t think of anyone who would just stop by, unless--

“Flower, honestly,” he muttered as he made his way to the door. “He’s still not--” Sid cut himself off with a choked sound when he opened the door and didn’t find Flower.

Zhenya looked rakishly handsome under the porch light with his hair all mussed up from a long day on a series of planes, especially when he smiled. “Mail for Sidney Crosby.”

“Oh my god,” Sid laughed as he pulled Zhenya inside and then into his arms. Zhenya hugged him like he was relieved, the stress of travel breaking against the comfort of Sid’s embrace. “How did you get here?”

“Take taxi from hotel. Go, like, secret. Nobody know.”

“I would have picked you up. I could have parked up the block, like a getaway car.”

Zhenya’s laugh sounded tight, like maybe the description of him sneaking away from his team was more accurate than hyperbolic. “Want also surprise.”

“Well, I’m very surprised,” Sid said, drawing Zhenya down to kiss him for the first time in weeks--since they parted from Stockholm for Zhenya to get to Moscow for some charity game.

When Zhenya pulled back, he looked around with bright eyes at Sid’s house and grasped his hand. “Show me house.”

Sid gladly led Zhenya around. Zhenya spent some time cooing over the flowers on the dining room table--Sid would have to remember to thank his housekeeper for the arrangement. Zhenya was delighted by the pool and the back yard but turned down the suggestion of a late-night swim. It was a little on the chilly side for it, and he wanted to see everything first.

Sid kept on with the tour through the den and then upstairs. Zhenya lingered in the office, where Sid kept his hockey memorabilia. He touched Sid’s Rimouski jersey delicately and then moved to the Penguins one beside it, the one Sid got on draft day. Sid remembered with a jolt that Zhenya had one too, the only Penguins jersey he ever got before life took him another way.

“That’s the old design,” Sid offered, unsure what to say. “It’s been updated since.”

“You have one here?”

“A jersey? Yeah, a bunch. Why? You want to see?”

Zhenya shrugged. “Maybe want to see you wear.”

“Oh yeah? Like, around the house?”

“Maybe _only_ wear jersey,” Zhenya said, a sly grin creeping up his cheeks even as his eyes darted cautiously over Sid’s face.

“That does it for you, eh?”

Another shrug, less sheepish now that Zhenya had gauged Sid’s interest and found it high. “Might be fun. Later.”

“Sure,” Sid said, voice audibly strangled by the thought. Zhenya could still surprise him sometimes. He made a mental note to bring a Penguins jersey to Toronto with him.

Zhenya’s eyes turned back to the draft jersey, and his playful expression dissolved into something unreadable. Sid touched his back to pull his attention away, and succeeded in getting Zhenya kissing him again.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Sid said against Zhenya’s mouth, threading his fingers into Zhenya’s hair to mess it up more. Zhenya held him hard, arms locked around his waist like he was desperate, like Sid might disappear if he didn’t keep his grip.

“Here,” Zhenya echoed. There was strain in his tone, a suggestion of something deeper going on than the stress of travel and the contemplation of a team he never got to join. Sid didn’t know exactly what kind of mess Zhenya left behind with his team, what kind of trouble he would be in when he got back, but for now, with Zhenya in his arms, Sid was hard-pressed to care. That would come later. For now, they had almost two weeks of tournament hockey ahead of them and nothing standing in their way.

Sid wrenched himself away and dropped his hand to grab Zhenya’s again. He offered what he hoped to be a sexy smile. “Want to see the bedroom?”

“See bedroom?” Zhenya said, voice _full_ of fake innocence. There was a poorly contained smirk under his doe-eyed stare.

“Yeah,” Sid said with a suggestive tilt of his head. “Just, you know--look at it.”

“Is nice? Pretty?” Zhenya asked while he followed the tug of Sid’s hand down the hall to the bedroom.

“Sure. It’s really nice.”

Zhenya followed him into the bedroom. When Sid stopped, Zhenya wrapped around him from behind and kissed his neck. It tickled, but he fought not to squirm. “Yes, is nice bed. Look soft.”

“Oh, it is. Very soft.”

Zhenya hummed and moved to step around Sid to flop back onto the bed. “Yep. Really soft. Come to me.”

Sid liked where this was heading. He sauntered up to the bed and swung a leg over Zhenya to sit on his hips. Zhenya gripped Sid’s thighs and craned up to mash their mouths together. Yeah, Sid thought as he leaned down to let Zhenya relax back against the pillow without parting, this was going some really excellent places.

Except, after a few minutes, Zhenya’s kisses started to get less focused. The heat between them cooled as they moved together until Sid began to realize--Zhenya wasn’t actually up for this. He radiated exhaustion, even as he licked into Sid’s mouth and slid a hand down to grab his ass. Zhenya wanted to please Sid, but his heart wasn’t in it.

When Sid tried to pull back, Zhenya clutched at him, anchored him in place. Sid lingered on a chaste kiss to slow things down. “Hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to.”

Zhenya pulled back to eye him skeptically. Sid could guess what he was thinking--they’d been apart for weeks. Reconnecting sexually would generally be high on the list of priorities.

“Don’t want?” Zhenya asked. He looked equal parts hurt by the perceived rejection and too exhausted to worry about what it meant.

“Don’t be like that. You know I want to.” Sid ran a hand up Zhenya’s arm, feeling the curve of the muscles there. Boy, did he want to. But, he also wanted Zhenya to be comfortable and happy. “I’d rather just sleep with you for now.”

Zhenya blinked, obviously surprised to see Sid putting off sex, but then he looked hesitantly relieved. “Okay. Sleep, then fuck.”

Sid’s fondness broke its bounds watching Zhenya flop around to get under the covers, then get comfortable, and finally to manhandle Sid into position, spooned up against Zhenya’s back. Sid nuzzled into Zhenya’s hair--he wasn’t exactly sleepy yet, but he also wasn’t going anywhere. Given a choice between laying with Zhenya sleeping in his arms and anything else, Zhenya would win out.

*****

Sid’s alarm went off, as usual, at six a.m. He came into consciousness slowly, aware that he was warmer than usual. The warmness corresponded with a groan from Zhenya, mumbling a complaint about the alarm. Sid kissed Zhenya’s head and reached over him to shut it off. “Sorry.”

Zhenya turned to squint up at Sid, propped over him, and his disgruntled expression softened into a smile. “Hi.”

“Morning.”

Zhenya pulled Sid down into a kiss, which didn’t stay innocent for long. Sid pulled back when Zhenya tried to push his tongue into Sid’s mouth.

“Let me just go brush my teeth.”

Zhenya ignored his words and dragged him back in, and Sid gave up, sinking into the soft, sloppy kiss. There was no doubt then that Zhenya would push until he got what he wanted, and equally no doubt about the end goal.

Sure enough, Zhenya rolled them so he was on top and dropped kisses down Sid’s neck to his chest. His fingers toyed with Sid’s boxers while he nipped the skin on Sid’s chest, but his hands stayed away from Sid’s rapidly swelling dick. Zhenya carefully peeled the boxers down over Sid’s hips and out of the way, leaving Sid to kick them off.

Zhenya didn’t give Sid any warning or leadup before he shuffled down and put his mouth on Sid’s cock. Sid dug his heels into the bed and grabbed handfuls of bedding at the sudden shock of sensation.

Sid could remember a time when Zhenya was so shy about blowing him--like he thought there might be a way to do it wrong. He held himself back, mostly suckling the tip and jerking the shaft with his hand.

Now, Zhenya pinned Sid’s hips down with his hands and swallowed him like he was paid to do it, mouth unselfconsciously wet from where he couldn’t keep all of his spit in. This was not foreplay. He used his mouth with a purpose, laser-focused on getting Sid off.

Sid’s hips twitched every time Zhenya came up for a breath, and he loosened his grip on the sheets to bury his fingers in Zhenya’s messy hair.

Zhenya smacked Sid on the hip when he shoved his other hand over his own mouth to stem the flow of gasps and groans filling his ears. Sid craned a look down and found smoldering eyes glaring back at him. Zhenya wanted him to be loud--okay. Not like they always had the luxury. Sid flopped back against the sheets and let it all out as he rounded third base and started for home.

Zhenya kept his hands locked on Sid’s hips when he arched his back. He knew by now what to look for--no warning needed. Zhenya slowed his pace down so he could feel every pulse when Sid tensed up and came with a shout.

Sid flopped back against his pillow. He was sweaty like he’d worked out. “Fuck me, man. Hell of a way to wake up.”

“I fuck you later. Right now, I hurry.” Zhenya’s lips and chin were a wet mess. He ambled up until he was sitting astride Sid’s thighs and wiped his mouth with his hand.

“Hurry?” Sid asked. Were they going somewhere? He couldn’t be asked to think about things when Zhenya was using the extra spit from blowing him to pump his dick slowly.

“Mm-hmm. Big hurry. Feel.”

Zhenya picked one of Sid’s hands off his thigh and put it on his dick. It was so hard. It felt feverish it was so hot, leaking steadily.

“Pretty close there, huh?”

Zhenya pushed his hips, so his cock slid through Sid’s grip.

“Want to, uh--” Sid raised his eyebrows and licked his lips, which made Zhenya’s eyes narrow darkly on his mouth. Zhenya shuffled up without any prompting until he could lean over and slide into Sid’s mouth.

Sid kept his jaw lax to let Zhenya flex forward a couple of times, cautious. Sid wasn’t looking for caution, so he dug his fingers into Zhenya’s ass and dragged him forward on the next thrust, so deep he fought the urge to cough.

“Sid,” Zhenya groaned, fingers white-knuckled on the headboard. Sid could feel how hard he was, the final swell before he let go and pulsed across Sid’s tongue.

Zhenya flopped back to sit on Sid’s chest, breathing hard. When he looked down, he grinned and reached to run a thumb across the corner of Sid’s mouth, where he hadn’t managed to catch all the come and spit filling it up along with Zhenya’s dick. “Dirty. You bad boy.”

Sid rolled his eyes but felt pretty full of himself. “It’s not _that_ dirty. You’re so vanilla.”

“Ice cream?” Zhenya asked, either braindead from orgasm or it was the only context he’d ever heard the word in English.

“Yeah, bud,” Sid said, patting his thigh. “You’re totally ice cream.”

Zhenya laughed and swung his leg off to bonelessly collapse beside Sid.

When they could move again, they showered and then Zhenya joined Sid in the kitchen to help him cook breakfast. “I figured something simple. Unless-- Are you skating today? Could do some oatmeal, too.”

“No, not skate today. We practice lots before, in Russia. Today we rest, then slow skate before game tomorrow.”

Canada was doing the same, skipping practice in favor of resting their legs. “So, you’re all mine, eh?”

“Only dinner with team. I have to go. Then I come back here.”

“You sure? Because it’s okay if you need to go be with them.”

“No, Kucherov tell them I’m busy, it’s okay. Everybody is go all over city, shopping and seeing. Nobody think it’s weird.”

“Kucherov is your partner in crime for this trip?”

Zhenya shrugged. “Don’t tell him everything. Just text me if something happen.”

“Well, good. I’m glad I get you all to myself. Mostly.”

A flash of something--maybe worry--came over Zhenya’s face before he smiled. “Here in Pittsburgh together,” he said as he wrapped around Sid and kissed his neck. Sid craned to kiss him properly. If Sid could wish for anything, it would be that this could never end, that he never had to let Zhenya go again.

They spent the day doing nothing much. Zhenya convinced Sid that he didn’t want to do any sightseeing. “Want to stay here with you.”

“I would go, too,” Sid chuckled even as he relented and allowed Zhenya to haul him down onto the couch.

Zhenya seemed perfectly content to just exist in Sid’s space, which Sid couldn’t complain about, so they ended up lazing the day away until their respective team dinners.

“Don’t suppose I can drop you off,” Sid said mournfully as Zhenya fiddled with his Uber app. Zhenya snorted an amused but hard no. “Okay, well. Give me a kiss goodbye, at least.”

“Not _goodbye_,” Zhenya said, eyes narrowing with contained laughter. “I come right back.”

Sid still drew him into a kiss before he peeled off to get in his car and go to dinner with team Canada.

The roster for Canada had a lot of overlap with the last Olympics, so Sid wasn’t without people to talk to. He crashed in next to Shea, who immediately tried to goad him into ordering a beer the night before a game and then nudged Seggy to point out Sid’s responsive expression.

“Look, you can see the lecture building up just right--there,” he pointed at a place on Sid’s brow.

“Uh oh, Captain Crosby laying down the law,” Seggy cackled. “What happens if we’re bad? Spankings?”

“You guys do what you want, but don’t cry to me when you’re dehydrated in the morning,” Sid retorted. He knew Shea was just egging him on, not really contemplating drinking. The game might not mean anything for the tournament, but it was important.

It was good to see everybody in good spirits. Sid fueled up on the usual mix of protein and vegetables while chatting with the team, and time flew.

Still, when it was time to go and he was in the car back to his house, he felt a surge of relief to be returning to Zhenya.

Zhenya had used the key Sid gave him to let himself into his house, which felt really cool. Sid could almost pretend they lived together, that he was coming home to _their_ house.

Sid found Zhenya in the bedroom, stripping out of his clothes, and leaned on the door to watch him. Zhenya stopped undoing his belt at the sight of him. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Zhenya smirked and pushed his pants down. He took his underwear with them and stepped out of the puddle of clothes wearing nothing but a necklace. Sid’s mouth went dry, and Zhenya took that time to ask, “How is dinner?”

“Dinner?” Sid replied absently as Zhenya strolled to his bed, casual as could be.

Zhenya bent over to plug his phone in and glanced back over his shoulder, utterly aware of what he was doing. “Team dinner. Is nice?”

Sid pushed away from the doorframe and strode up to cup his hands against Zhenya’s ass. “It was good.”

“Yes, my dinner is good too,” Zhenya continued, breath hitching when Sid dipped his fingers in and brushed against his dry hole.

“Z--”

“Yes, get in bed.”

They made out for a while, slow and tender. Sid rubbed his hand down Zhenya’s arm, tracing his bicep, and then ran his palm across Zhenya’s ribs, in no rush to get where he was going.

“Hey,” Sid said against Zhenya’s mouth. “You remember what we talked about?”

Zhenya reared back, lips plush and pouty from kissing, looking obscene enough to dry up Sid’s throat. He seemed impatient, curious what was so crucial that Sid felt the need to interrupt their making out.

“You said you wanted to try, you know. Since we’re, uh...” Sid chickened out and trailed off. They were monogamous, had been for a couple of years, but they’d never done much with that information. It wasn’t until Zhenya let it slip while fingering himself over the phone that he wanted Sid to come inside him.

“I come in you all the time,” Sid said, hardly daring to hope about the meaning behind Zhenya’s words.

“You do with condom,” Zhenya panted into the receiver. “I want inside.”

“You want me to fuck you bare?” Sid asked, and that was when Zhenya made a choked sound when he came. The idea, the words in Sid’s mouth, did that to him. Sid vowed to see what the act itself would do.

With the memory, Sid found the courage to say, “I, uh--There’s lube in the table. But no condoms.”

Zhenya stopped restlessly shifting around, eyes widening. “You will--”

“Yeah, if you still want.”

Zhenya surged in to plant a kiss on Sid’s mouth, an enthusiastic yes. “Where is lube?”

Sid squirmed out away from Zhenya’s grasping hands to get to the nightstand and pulled open the top drawer. Inside, he had an unopened bottle of lubricant.

Sid’s heart pounded while he worked his fingers into Zhenya. He’d done it plenty, but never with the anticipation of having his unwrapped cock following.

Zhenya grabbed his wrist impatiently before Sid thought he was ready. “Sid,” Zhenya said. “Come.”

Sid couldn’t turn a plea like that down. He obediently pulled his fingers free and reached again for the lube. It felt cold when he poured a line down his cock and spread it out. He nudged Zhenya’s knees apart and settled between his thighs. “Okay?”

Zhenya looked wide-eyed, but at the question, he kicked Sid in the ass with his heel. “Always so slow,” he complained, though Sid had long learned to read through his grievances, usually covering for uncertainty.

Sid pushed into Zhenya in a smooth slide and nearly lost every ounce of control he thought he had. It shouldn’t feel so different, being without a condom, but it did. It felt like fucking in high definition. “Oh my god.”

For once, Zhenya had nothing to say, just gripped onto Sid’s shoulders and made gasping little noises with every push forward.

“It’s okay?”

Zhenya nodded urgently. “Good, good. So good.”

Well, no question there. Sid leaned forward to brace on his hands and get to work.

Zhenya made a choked off sobbing noise when Sid came inside of him and reached desperately down for his cock. Sid adjusted so he would stay inside and rocked gently into Zhenya’s body.

Zhenya called Sid pretty and perfect in Russian when he tensed up and came, fluttering around Sid’s softening dick and not even trying to contain the mess. Sid’s heart swelled at the babbled affection.

Zhenya sagged against the bed and let his legs fall further open, gravity pulling his knees toward the mattress. He grinned up at Sid, still propped over him. “That’s really good. We do again.”

“It’s kind of messy,” Sid said, teasing like he didn’t love the feel of Zhenya, slick and hot and with nothing between them. “You like it, eh? Getting all covered.”

Zhenya hardly ever blushed anymore, like he did when they were getting started. He used to get so embarrassed. Now, he shamelessly ran a hand up his stomach, through the mess there, and smirked. “Maybe, yes. Can clean sheets, no problem.”

Sid shifted enough to kiss Zhenya and freed himself in the process. “Well, if you’re offering. You remember where the laundry is, right?”

Zhenya squawked, but Sid was already off the bed, heading toward the shower with a helpless shrug and a self-satisfied smile.

Sid luxuriated under the spray for a long time, the heat pounding any residual stress out of his shoulders and back. He didn’t even get shampoo in his hair before Zhenya barged in and pressed him back against the tile wall, a shock of sudden cold. Zhenya kissed him, and Sid relaxed prematurely, unaware of the imminent attack until Zhenya’s fingers dug into his ribs. He ripped away with a helpless giggle.

“No tickling in the shower!” Sid cried, laughing too hard to make it sound authoritative. “It’s dangerous.”

Zhenya hummed a disgruntled sound, but he stopped going for Sid’s ribs and pulled him close again. “You make me do laundry.”

“You actually put the sheets in the wash?” Sid was genuinely surprised, having anticipated doing it himself when he got out.

“Yes, I want clean sheet,” Zhenya said, and his fake pouting turned to mischief. “That way we can mess up again.”

Zhenya was wonderful, and Sid smiled against his mouth as they shared steamy kisses in the warm, moist air.

After they showered and Sid put a clean set of sheets on the bed, they lay together in the dark, and Zhenya nuzzled into his shoulder. “This is good day.”

It ranked up there with the best days of Sid’s life, in fact: draft day, first NHL game, first gold medal, and now the first time Zhenya came to Pittsburgh. “Yeah, it was a really good day.”

*****

It was surreal to wake up with Zhenya on game day, knowing that they were going to face each other at the Consol, where usually Sid played with the Penguins.

“Good morning,” Zhenya said. His hair was an adorable mess.

“Morning.”

“Big day, huh?”

“Yeah, really big. When’s your skate?”

Zhenya shrugged and looked at his phone. “Like, two hour.”

Damn, that wasn’t much time. Sid tried to contain his disappointment. They would be together again in Toronto. Both teams were flying out the next day.

Sid made the oatmeal this time, some complex carbs to get them going and revved up for skate.

Zhenya called his Uber and made out with Sid at the door while he waited for it to arrive. “Only for one day.”

“Sure, yeah. We’ve gone way longer than that.”

“Yes, we can be good.”

Sid kept his hands gripped on to Zhenya until he could hear the car approaching. Then he reluctantly stepped back. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Zhenya’s smile looked very sad, but he nodded.

The house felt empty without Zhenya in it. Or, maybe it had always had a hole, a void Sid never realized could be filled and that he now could see. He hated it and went to get changed into gym stuff so he could leave as soon as possible.

Once he joined Team Canada, Sid’s uneasy feeling settled. It dropped into a gameday routine--morning skate, lunch, nap, drive to the arena. Then at the Consol, it was his old stomping grounds, and he could easily fall into the rhythm of the pregame.

Moments before a game ticked by, each small event marking another tick closer to puck drop. Sid got changed into warmups and did a couple easy miles on the treadmill. He fixed a snack. He wandered the halls until he found Shea and some others playing two-touch.

Then, Sid was getting geared up.

It felt surreal to be holding his Team Canada jersey again, this time in Pittsburgh. It felt--not _wrong_, but incredibly strange.

“You okay there, Cap?” Seggy asked, shimmying into his base layers on Sid’s right. When Sid looked at him, he could see behind the cocksure grin. Seggy looked surprisingly nervous. He wasn’t asking if Sid was okay--he was seeking reassurance.

“I’m good. We’ve got a great team.”

“You like our odds, then?” Seggy asked, with his grin looking a little less fake than before.

Sid patted Seggy’s knee over his shin pad. “I’d bet on us, for sure.”

With Seggy reassured, Sid pulled the jersey over his head, feeling a little more like he’d earned the C on his chest.

Sid’s heart raced while he waited for warmups. He barely heard any distinct words--just the hum of conversation around him.

And then it was time. Sid ushered his teammates out through the door, tapping shoulders and helmets and butts until he was the last one, then he swung into step behind Toews.

Sid burst out into the lights to the roar of the crowd. Russia was already warming up on the other side of the ice. As he did a lap, he spotted Zhenya starting to do the same. They passed each other at center ice, something he assumed Zhenya engineered. Zhenya didn’t smile, exactly, but he nodded subtly. Sid grinned like a lunatic, helpless to stop it.

They met again for the first faceoff. Sid expected Zhenya to look at him like he had in Vancouver--blank, unreadable. Instead, Zhenya smirked up at him.

“Ready?”

“Fuck yeah,” Sid replied, pumped to see Zhenya looking eager, happy to play him. He bent into the circle, close enough to hear Zhenya breathing.

The game was unlike any other Sid had played against Russia. The teams struck an early balance of going for each other as hard as they could, but without any malice. The result was fast and chippy, which was normal, but it was also _fun_.

Bergy scored the only goal in the period. Sid got the assist and piled into a celly with his teammates while the crowd roared.

Nobody scored in the second, and the joviality of the game tempered. Zhenya took offense to Marchand and put him into the boards with more than necessary gusto, which resulted in a two-minute penalty. Sid arched an eyebrow at him, and Zhenya responded with a rueful shrug. The game might be tense, but they were okay still. Sid couldn’t exactly blame anyone for getting frustrated with Marchand

Scoring opened up in the third. First, Ovechkin fired one home to tie it up. Then Panarin got a go-ahead for Russia.

Tavares evened the score, and there it stayed through regulation. Sid almost laughed when the buzzer rang. They were going to overtime.

Sid lined up against Zhenya again for the opening overtime faceoff. Again, Zhenya offered a tiny grin. “Ready for lose?”

“Not happening, bud,” Sid chuckled, bending in.

And Sid was right. Three minutes into overtime, Getzlaf scored, and the Canadian bench exploded. Sid lost Zhenya in the chaos, and he slipped away before Sid could find him again. Sid’s mood dipped when he realized Zhenya was off the ice. Sid wanted to check in, ensure they were completely okay after the game before heading out with their team charters the next day. He would have to check in over text, their usual form of communication.

In the locker room, Sid went on autopilot again to shuck out of his gear and leave it out to dry to be packed up in the morning for the trip to Toronto. He showered amongst his boisterous teammates and got dressed and went home.

And instead of an empty house, he walked in on Zhenya leaning in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water and snacking on an apple.

“You’re here!” Sid cried, elated to see him when he’d been expecting nothing more than possibly a phone call.

“Little bit lucky. Whole team go out to dance. Don’t notice if I’m--” Zhenya shrugged and took a bite, then held the apple out--an offer. “Want?”

Sid shook his head with a smile pulling at his mouth and walked up to put his hands against Zhenya’s chest and craned up to kiss him. His lips were sweet with apple juice. “You staying all night?”

“Yes, I can. I go back very early. Like, maybe five o'clock.”

“That early, I can drive you for sure. Nobody will know.”

Zhenya acquiesced and bent to kiss him again. “Okay. You drive. We go to Toronto, only like half one day apart, huh?”

“Maybe not even that. The flight to Toronto will be so short, then we have to get checked in so--Oh my god, Z. Our parents are coming in _tomorrow_.”

“Yes, I know. They will meet.” Zhenya’s face showed something mysterious--similar to the look he briefly got in the office when contemplating the Penguins jersey--and Sid’s stomach tightened with worry. Zhenya looked uncertain. The overactive, paranoid part of Sid’s brain pressed the pedal to the floor and sped into a million insecure fears--Zhenya didn’t want to introduce his parents to his temporary boyfriend, he didn’t think they would like Sid, he didn’t--

Zhenya interrupted Sid’s worries with a smile and a kiss, looking like he’d resolved whatever was going on in his mind.

“Everything is good,” Zhenya said.

Sid accepted another kiss while his heart slowed. He had to trust what Zhenya said after Prague--they would find a way to work through the distance. Zhenya wasn’t giving up, and neither was Sid. They were taking this next step, meeting each other’s parents, and treating their relationship like the real deal. Sid leaned his forehead against Zhenya’s and consciously calmed his breathing. “Yeah. Everything is good.”

*****

The clandestine mission to drop Zhenya off at Team Russia’s hotel went off without a hitch. Sid smoothly pulled up to the side of the building and even got to snag a final kiss before he let Zhenya go. Then he went to meet his own team.

The team charter took off just after dawn, so everybody was pretty sleepy and in their coffees. Sid took the chance to relax, settle back, and sleep.

Sid’s family was arriving shortly after the team got in. He and Zhenya had planned to meet up at the hotel, since Zhenya’s family wasn’t coming in until later. Sid branched off from the team once he got his luggage and went to retrieve the SUV he rented for the trip. With his luggage squared away in the car, he got a bottle of water and settled in to wait for his family.

Taylor texted Sid the minute the plane landed. _Here!!!_

Sid chuckled and threw back the last of his water before he stood up to meander toward the security exit.

Taylor emerged with their parents in tow, looking around eagerly before she slowly wilted. “Where’s Zhenya?”

“With his team. He’ll be around later.”

“Oh,” Taylor said, clearly disappointed.

“I get it," Sid continued sarcastically. "You only see your brother a few times a year. No reason to be excited.”

Taylor rolled her eyes but finished with a rueful smile. “Exactly,” she said while she stepped forward to hug him.

Sid hugged his parents, too, happy to see them even though they’d only been apart for a short while. With Zhenya off doing team stuff, Sid spent a lot of the summer in Nova Scotia, eating dinner with his family and fishing with his dad.

They drove to the hotel Sid had reserved. It was enough off the beaten path that he figured he’d probably be away from other hockey players who were also staying with their families for the duration. Sid didn’t want to shake a dozen hands every time he walked across the lobby. He’d booked three suites all on the same floor. Once he got everyone checked in, he texted the information to Zhenya.

_Still with team._ Zhenya texted an emoji rolling it’s eyes. He followed up with another text: _Meet parents soon. Then come._

Sid’s stomach flipped over and got his heart racing again.

“Why do you look sick all of a sudden?” Taylor asked, squinting at him in the elevator.

“I’m not,” Sid protested, but Taylor’s interest put his mother on alert.

“You don’t want to get sick before the tournament, honey. Why don’t you go lie down for a little while?”

And from there, no protests would be heard until Sid parted ways with them and shuffled off to his room, where he paced and chewed his thumbnail until Zhenya texted to say they’d arrived. Sid felt like a child again, sneaking out of his room to go downstairs against his mother’s wishes, but he wanted--needed--to go meet Zhenya’s parents.

Sid examined every car pulling into the drive until he caught a glimpse of Zhenya in the passenger seat of one. Then he stood and brushed a hand over his hair, just to be sure, while the SUV came to a slow stop. The passenger door kicked open, and Zhenya bounded out to lope up to him. “You here! I think you are in room.”

“Not a chance. Are you crazy?”

Zhenya grinned and touched Sid’s hand--nothing overtly affectionate, it could almost be an accident. “Come. Meet.”

Zhenya led Sid up to a surprisingly short man he’d seen in a few video calls. Vladimir was always nice to Sid, smiling and waving when Zhenya prompted him.

Now, Vladimir dragged his stony gaze from Sid’s shoes up to his face without a hint of happiness. Zhenya said something Sid couldn’t translate in Russian, gentle at first and then stern. Sid held out his hand and Vladimir took it slowly.

Sid drew in what little breath his constricted lungs would allow and said in Russian, “Hello. My name is Sid. It is good to meet you.”

Zhenya beamed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You say so good!”

Sid shrugged. “I practiced a little.” A lot, saying the same phrase over and over again until he got it just right.

Zhenya went back to his father, talking fast in Russian Sid couldn’t even hope to follow with a big smile that slowly wilted when Vladimir’s hard expression didn’t change.

“Everything okay?” Sid asked because clearly everything was not.

“Yes,” Zhenya said, subdued. “It’s okay. Come meet my mother.”

Christ, after Vladimir, Sid wasn’t sure he had the courage. But thankfully, Natalia at least smiled at him and shook his hand. She spoke slow, clear Russian when she greeted him. He caught at least half of her words, though Zhenya still felt the need to translate.

“She say very happy to meet.”

“Thank you,” Sid said in Russian, again prompting Zhenya to light up. Sid didn’t really practice speaking the language in front of Zhenya, so he was probably pretty surprised Sid knew anything at all.

They made their way into the hotel. Sid felt wrong-footed the whole time, unsure what to do with Vladimir’s silence. Had the family fought about something on the ride from the airport?

Well, if nobody was telling him, Sid had no choice but to charge ahead and hope things improved. In the elevator, he said, “So, we were thinking about resting up for a while and then heading out to dinner, all of us.”

Zhenya relayed the message to his parents. Vladimir’s eyes cut to Sid, but he nodded, and what little Sid could catch from Natalia sounded positive. He could do this, win them over. And if he couldn’t, Taylor definitely could. She could charm the birds from the trees.

“So, like, six o'clock?” Sid asked as they approached the door to the suite. “Meet down in the lobby?”

Zhenya relayed the message and got affirmative answers. “Yes, we will meet,” Zhenya said.

“Okay, cool. I’ll just--go. So you guys can settle in.”

“Yes, good,” Zhenya said something that sounded kind of short to his parents and then unexpectedly followed Sid.

“Oh, you can stay with your parents if you want. I’ll just go watch TV. Take a nap.”

“I want nap,” Zhenya grumbled, again making it sound like maybe he and his parents had fought, the way he seemingly wanted to get away from them. As he caught up to Sid, he rested a hand on Sid’s lower back and nudged in almost too close to walk comfortably.

“Z, seriously,” Sid said when they got behind a closed door. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just, my parents is--” Zhenya grasped for words and gave up with a sigh. “Little bit mad, I guess.”

“Because you’re not playing for Metallurg?”

Zhenya shrugged. “It’s--yes, I think. I don’t know.”

Sid didn’t think Zhenya didn’t _know_, but rather that he didn’t know how to explain. “They’ll see. You’ll play so well for Russia, nobody will be able to stay mad. They’ll see why you had to come.”

Zhenya’s playful grin slowly overtook his pinched, frustrated expression. “You think I play so good?”

“Of course.”

“You think I play best?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll be amazing.”

“Think I win World Cup?”

Sid narrowed his eyes in a fake glare. “Alright, let’s not go _that_ far.

Zhenya barked a delighted laugh. “Okay, let’s nap. We get up too early.”

At first, Sid didn’t think there was any way he could sleep after the stress of the day, but he ended up managing it, lulled by Zhenya’s warmth and the quiet room. He woke to the insistent buzzing of his cell phone and groaned into consciousness to reach for it. Zhenya clutched at him, making it very tempting to just ignore the phone.

“One sec,” Sid assured him. He grabbed the phone off the nightstand and jolted, realizing what time it was--nearly time to meet his parents to go out to dinner. Taylor had texted six times before she called. As he watched, another text came in.

_Did you die??_

Zhenya’s hand slid onto his shoulder. “What you doing? Come kiss me.”

“I can’t.”

“Rude.”

Sid leaned back toward him and very briefly acquiesced to give him a peck on the lips. “I can’t because I know what would happen. And we have to go. We overslept.”

“One kiss,” Zhenya pled, and Sid gave him another. Their lips had barely parted when Zhenya demanded, “One more.” Sid smiled helplessly into a final kiss, then forced himself away.

“Sorry,” he replied to the petulant sound from Zhenya. “We have to get ready.”

Taylor started knocking before Sid finished dressing. He tucked his shirt in as he went to open the door and found her looking impatient. “Dude, everybody is downstairs. We’re waiting on you guys.”

“Yeah, sorry. We kind of overslept and--wait, everyone?”

“Yeah. Mom went over to see if Zhenya’s parents needed anything. One thing led to another.”

“It always does,” Sid said, equal parts exasperated and fond of his mother’s social tendencies. “How are they even talking to each other?”

“They’re figuring it out.”

“We should probably head down. Zhenya?”

“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” Zhenya huffed before he saw Taylor and brightened. “Hi, little sister.”

“Hey,” Taylor said as Zhenya tackled her in their first-ever hug. “Our parents went down to have a drink before dinner,” she continued when he released her. “Which is great for you, because it gives my dad an opportunity to chill out. He can’t wait to talk to you.”

Zhenya looked alarmed. “Why?”

“He’s fallen in love with Russian hockey. He doesn’t understand a word of the commentary, but he watches every game he can get his hands on. I think he knows every one of your stats by heart for your cup run.”

“He want to talk about hockey?” Zhenya asked.

“Always,” Sid chuckled, and Zhenya looked relieved. Hockey was one thing he could comfortably discuss forever in either of his languages. Sid grabbed his wallet and the room key and took a breath. “Alright, we ready for this?”

Taylor led the charge out the door, impatient to get them moving. Sid trailed after her with Zhenya and caught his hand for a brief, reassuring squeeze. Zhenya bumped his shoulder into Sid’s to return the sentiment. They were in this together.

They found their parents huddled together around a small table in the hotel lounge. Sid was relieved to see them looking comfortable, smiling together despite their inability to effectively communicate. Even Vladimir seemed relaxed, which was a relief to see.

“There he is!” Sid’s father said when he saw them, and he jumped up to stride over and shake Zhenya’s hand. “Great to finally meet you. I’m Troy.”

“He knows your name, Dad,” Sid ribbed because they’d talked on the phone a few times when Sid was home for the summer.

“Yes, good to meet you,” Zhenya said. He darted Sid a wide-eyed look when Sid started to step away and continue to the table, a clear _don’t leave me_ as Sid’s mother also approached. Sid touched his elbow to reassure him he’d be fine before moving on to introduce Taylor to Zhenya’s parents. Vladimir still looked at Sid sideways, but he seemed pleased to meet Taylor, unable as he was to follow along with her rapid-fire English.

“Good. Good girl,” he finally said to her in thick English. She beamed back at Sid.

“See? I’m a good girl.”

“He doesn’t know you yet,” Sid deadpanned, prepared to dodge away from her swat.

Sid managed to get everyone moving toward the doors before long and reconvened with Zhenya, who only glared at him briefly for abandoning him. Then everybody was talking, and languages were changing too fast for Sid’s ears. Zhenya was trying to translate for his parents while keeping up himself. Sid mostly just kept everyone moving and tried to answer anything directed at him.

They were barely out of the lobby before Sid overheard his father say to Zhenya, “You’ve got a heck of a slapper, eh? I wouldn’t want to put a glove in front of one of those.”

Taylor cut a knowing look across at Sid, while Zhenya, bless him, nodded earnestly. Sid knew what Zhenya would typically do if he were comfortable--if he weren’t trying to impress anyone. He would give a cocky grin and puff out his chest and say most goalies were scared of him, too--they should be. But faced with Sid’s father, Zhenya replied modestly, “It’s okay sometime. I work hard on slap shot all last season. Most goalies is so good--I have to be better.”

“Well, I’d say you’re doing a darn good job. You’re averaging, what, a point and a half per game? Two in the playoffs. With stats like that, you’d be a star anywhere.”

Sid had a sudden jolt of panic that his father might say something about the NHL, specifically about Zhenya’s potential to join the league. Even with all the years since Zhenya’s draft, it was a sore subject that Sid trod carefully around--when he brought it up at all. He was relieved when the valet pulled the car up to interrupt them.

They made it through dinner without another potential calamity, though Sid made a mental note to tell his father--something. He knew Zhenya wouldn’t want him to tell the whole story. It made Zhenya look weak, in his eyes, that he couldn’t stand up for himself against his KHL team. Sid didn’t see it like that, but he knew Zhenya did. He also knew, if he didn’t say something, his father would bring it up again, curious about why Zhenya never joined the NHL.

Sid pushed the thought aside for the night. There was no use dwelling on an issue he couldn’t fix right away. Instead, Sid stayed mindful of the present--their parents coming together to share a meal, laughing and chatting across the table. It made him emotional to think about, nearly tearing up when he thought about the progress in their relationship. What seemed impossible even a year ago in Prague now was a reality.

Zhenya gripped his hand under the table and leaned in close, smiling. “You look happy.”

“I am,” Sid replied instantly. He could tell Zhenya was thinking along the same lines, pleased at the successful meeting of their families.

“Me too,” Zhenya said, squeezing Sid’s hand before dropping it. He maybe even looked a little choked up about it, which made Sid feel less alone with his own expanding emotions.

After dinner, Sid drove the rented SUV back to the hotel. Zhenya sat in the back between Vladimir and Taylor, filling the car with boisterous laughter as he translated their messages to each other. Sid glanced in the rearview to see him with his head thrown back, words lost in his helpless guffawing. Everything seemed so much more perfect than it had any right to be.

They all parted ways with plans to meet up for breakfast, and Sid resisted the urge to touch Zhenya until he got him through the door of their suite. When the door closed, they found one another, kissing without urgency, saying things they couldn’t say with words.

*****

Other than the occasional practice or meeting with their respective teams, Sid and Zhenya spent the days leading up to the start of the World Cup playing tourists around Toronto with their families. The weather was shockingly on board with their plans, allowing them to walk almost everywhere.

Zhenya acted bored by the idea of going to Casa Loma--a chateau straight out of Downton Abbey. But then Zhenya saw how his mother’s eyes lit up when Sid showed her pictures on his phone and relented to go.

“I’m with you,” Taylor mumbled to Zhenya. A day into the trip, and they were forming an increasingly cohesive team.

“Oh, stop. It’ll be fun,” Sid scolded her.

On the way up to the main building, Natalia slid her hand under Sid’s elbow to walk with him. When he smiled over at her, she patted his arm. He felt impossibly suave leading her up to the house, appropriately old-fashioned for the setting, a stone, castle-like mansion-turned-museum surrounded by pristine gardens and perfectly manicured grass.

When Natalia slid away from Sid inside, he caught Vladimir’s eyes on him. His gaze held something less frosty than what had been the norm so far. He looked begrudgingly accepting of Sid, as though Sid had done something worthy of approval.

“My mother love this things,” Zhenya said, appearing at Sid’s side and gesturing around at the expanse of mahogany woodwork. So that was it--Sid’s suggestion made Natalia happy, which made Vladimir approve.

After the trip to Casa Loma, Vladimir thawed considerably toward Sid. He wasn’t buddying up to Sid the way Natalia did, but he started attempting to speak English to him more. Sid thought his original chilliness must have just been unease about meeting their son’s partner and being protective of him.

Occasionally, though, Sid noticed Zhenya exchanging significant looks with his parents, almost like he was warning them about something. They would talk to each other in irritable sounding Russian, and then the moment would end as suddenly as it began. Once, Sid walked up on them having one of those moments and caught a few familiar words--something about “Pittsburgh” and “home” before Zhenya spotted Sid approaching and cut the talk off abruptly.

“Everything okay?” Sid asked as Zhenya hastened toward him. Zhenya’s parents still looked worried behind him, but Zhenya nodded.

“Yes, everything is good. We go to dinner, okay?”

Zhenya whisked Sid away before he could ask anything else or try to talk to Zhenya’s parents at all. They met everyone for dinner, and Zhenya’s parents seemed cheerful enough. Perhaps they were upset Sid didn’t invite them to the pretournament game in Pittsburgh, so they could also see where he lived. Maybe he should have.

When the real tournament games finally started, Canada played the first day, and Russia didn’t. The fact that they played on separate days gave Sid a thrilling opportunity to attend the Russia game with both of their families.

“If that’s okay,” he amended, talking about it with Zhenya in bed the night before the games began.

“Sure, why is not okay?” Zhenya said with a perplexed look. “We are come to Canada game, also, tomorrow. You can come to Russia.”

“I, uh-- I wasn’t sure how comfortable your parents would be, if I went. Without you. I don’t want them to think--”

“What, boyfriend want to see me play? They know. You want to see best hockey. I score for you, you watch--it’s nice.”

Sid failed to produce a flat glare at Zhenya for purposely not getting what he was saying, but Zhenya was being really cute while feigning obliviousness. It was tough to be mad at him when he smiled so angelically. “They just seem a little unsure about me, that’s all,” Sid pressed.

Zhenya’s teasing look fell away, and he straightened up, suddenly serious. “No, Sid. That’s not why--” Zhenya cut himself off. At least he didn't deny it. “They feel a little bit worried, but not worried for you. You are perfect.”

“What are you not telling me?”

Zhenya sighed. “How I leave Magnitka-- I don’t want to talk about. Team is mad, you know?”

“Yeah, I figured,” Sid said, heart aching with sympathy. He could hear how conflicted Zhenya felt about his team every time he talked about it, particularly lately. “It’s okay. They’ll forgive you. They have to understand how important this is, representing Russia.”

Zhenya shrugged. “Maybe. I want to have fun here, not worry. Not think.”

Sid assured Zhenya with a kiss that he was on board with that idea. “Of course, I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again, okay? I’m just glad to know--you know. Your parents don’t hate my guts or something.”

“How they can hate?” Zhenya scoffed. Before Sid could prepare for it, Zhenya lifted his shirt and swooped in to kiss his tummy.

Sid giggled and twisted away from Zhenya’s tickling kisses. “God, stop!”

Zhenya grasped and Sid squirmed until they wound up in a tangle of wrinkled up sheets on the bed, Zhenya lying on top of Sid kissing him. Whatever else was going on, they were okay. More than okay, Sid thought as he nudged his hips up and felt Zhenya’s burgeoning erection against his own.

Canada dominantly won their first tournament game, a six-nothing blowout against the Czechs. Sid opened the scoring for his team. He couldn’t get a glimpse of Zhenya when he did it, but he was up there cheering with both of their families.

The next day, with Zhenya’s approval secured, Sid joined his family and Zhenya’s for Russia’s first game against Sweden.

“Sweden’s pretty good,” Taylor said during warmups, looking at the roster. Sid winced and cut a glare at her. “Oh for--It’s not a curse to say they’re good. Russia’s better. Happy?”

“If they lose, I’m telling Zhenya,” Sid threatened. 

Taylor rolled her eyes mightily. “They’re not going to lose, crazy. Russia’s better, like I said.”

Russia did lose, though. Markstrom, Sweden’s goalie, played the game of his life, stopping high danger scoring chances in every period. Bobrovsky did one worse, and they lost by a goal.

During the game, Sid couldn’t help but notice Zhenya playing without the usual fire. He’d seemed fine in Pittsburgh, but here he seemed listless, a step behind the play.

“You’re not really going to tell him, right?” Taylor asked, sounding legitimately nervous.

Even if she did cause some of the bounces to go Sweden’s way, Sid knew Zhenya would be kicking himself for his performance. Sid gave her a rueful smile. “Nah, I won’t say anything.”

She breathed out audibly, and Sid pulled her into a one-armed hug.

Zhenya met them at the restaurant. Sid expected him to be sullen or disappointed, but if that’s how he felt, he didn’t show it. He laughed with his father and teased Taylor and generally entertained everyone.

When they got back to the room, Zhenya got quiet, but he still didn’t seem miserable.

Zhenya looked disengaged the next night again when Russia played North America, though Russia narrowly pulled out a win. It almost seemed like he just wasn’t there to play hockey.

“Everything okay?” Sid asked cautiously when they were going to bed.

“Sure, why you ask?”

“I don’t know. You seem a little-- I don’t know. Checked out, I guess.”

Zhenya shuffled around and settled on Sid’s shoulder. “Maybe--”

“What? You can tell me.”

“Not sure you--” Zhenya laughed. It sounded breathy and nervous. “You always want play hockey.”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you?”

Zhenya shrugged. “Maybe.” He sounded tired. He looked tired on the ice. Sid wondered if it was a byproduct of a very long season, winning everything--if Sid would feel the same if he won the Stanley Cup.

Sid kissed Zhenya’s hair. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah?” Zhenya said, grinning up at him. “Not break up if I’m lazy? Bad at hockey.”

“You’re never bad at hockey. Besides, everybody gets a little tired of things sometimes. It’ll pass.”

Zhenya didn’t respond, and after a contemplative beat, he leaned up for a kiss.

*****

Canada won back to back games against the United States and Europe. Neither team was a slouch in the tournament, but Canada routed them both. They were starting to feel like an exceptional team, one that could walk away with the trophy, a thought that made Sid’s heart race with excitement.

Sid went to Russia’s final regular game against Finland with his heart in his throat, knowing that if Russia won, they would face Canada in the semifinal.

Natalia must have noticed Sid’s nervous silence because she reached out to grasp his hand and spoke slow enough in Russian for him to understand. “Zhenya will win,” she said in slow Russian, words small and familiar enough for him to understand.

“Yes, I know,” Sid said, chuckling nervously. He had no way to tell her that was partly what he was worried about. He didn’t want his team to be the one to eliminate Russia, but he also didn’t want to lose.

She squeezed his hand and nodded firmly. Then she said something faster with longer words, and Sid lost her. Again, something about home and then the word happy--they would be happy, Zhenya would be happy. He couldn’t get it.

“Happy,” Sid agreed, hoping it was the right response.

Her mouth pulled against a smile like she might cry, and Sid felt a rise of panic. “Good. Good boy,” she said, patting his hand. And then she turned back to the ice like nothing ever happened, leaving Sid baffled.

Russia won in a 3-0 shutout. Sid got lost in the roar of the crowd, leaping to his feet when Zhenya scored the final goal. The fact that they would play each other barely lingered at the back of his mind, washed away in excitement.

Zhenya’s parents went to meet him outside of the locker room area when the game was over. Sid would risk going to games with both of their families--lots of players attended games. Still, he figured heading down to personally greet a member of Team Russia might invite more questions than either of them wanted to answer. Instead, Sid bundled his family into a taxi and took them out to eat. He texted Zhenya the information for the restaurant but fully anticipated he wouldn’t join. They did need to be somewhat careful, after all.

Or, maybe not, since Zhenya plopped in beside him before they had even ordered and leaned in to boldly kiss Sid’s cheek. “See goal?”

“What goal? Somebody got a goal?” Sid asked, feigning ignorance as hard as he could. Zhenya pinched his side, which made him jerk away from the threat of a tickle.

“You see,” Zhenya said smugly.

“I did. It was a very pretty goal.”

Zhenya preened. “Best goal.”

Sid chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, it’ll be hard to top for sure.”

“I do better in Canada game. Score like six goal.”

It was great to see Zhenya in a good mood about the game, less than 48 hours away. If Zhenya wasn’t worried about it, Sid wasn’t going to worry about it either. He subtly grasped Zhenya’s hand under the table. “Six, eh? I guess I better aim for seven, try to keep up.”

Zhenya snorted a laugh and nudged his father, apparently translating to him. Vladimir chuckled as well and offered a thumbs up to Sid.

The families ate dinner together without any tension, even knowing that Sid and Zhenya would soon be at odds, at least as far as hockey was concerned. By unspoken agreement, everybody seemed to understand that hockey took a distant second in importance compared to the relationships being forged and strengthened.

The comfortable atmosphere followed them into the next day when Zhenya decided he wanted to go to a baseball game with their whole group.

“Baseball?” Sid asked skeptically. “Have you ever _seen_ baseball?”

Zhenya said something in Russian, then typed it into his phone for a translation. When he turned it around, the screen showed _Field of Dreams_.

“Oh my god,” Sid snorted, helpless to keep from laughing. “That’s just a movie.”

“Baseball,” Zhenya replied mulishly. “I want.”

Sid opened his mouth and shut it again, then obediently went to see whether there were any tickets for the Blue Jays game.

Zhenya seemed only mildly entertained by the game itself. Still, he was endlessly amused by sharing memes with Taylor during the boring parts. Sid’s father grumbled about being caught at his rival team’s game. Sid's mother mostly just chatted with Natalia, bridging the language gap however they could with smartphones and hand gestures.

Vladimir, surprisingly, was all in on baseball. He and Sid were the only ones totally absorbed in the game. Eventually, everyone migrated them close together and stopped trying to get their attention.

When a Toronto batter whacked a curvy pitch way out into the field, Vladimir jumped up and cheered, and Sid went along with him. Like his father, Sid wasn’t much of a Blue Jay’s fan, preferring to align all his sports support in Pittsburgh, but as long as they weren’t playing the Pirates, he figured it would be okay to cheer for Toronto.

They returned to their seats, and Vladimir pulled Sid in with an arm around his shoulders. “Good game.”

Honestly, it was a pitcher’s game, more technically impressive than fun for spectators. But Sid was glad to see Zhenya’s dad enjoying it and warming to him. Sid beamed and nodded. “Yeah, really good.”

“Sid,” Zhenya called down the row. “Hot dog?”

If Sid weren’t playing a pretty huge game tomorrow, he probably would. It sounded like Taylor had talked Zhenya into it somehow. Then again, maybe Zhenya didn’t know what a hot dog was--a tube of fat and mystery parts wrapped in simple carbs.

“You’re eating a hot dog before hockey?” Sid called.

“That’s long time,” Zhenya dismissed, waving a hand, and off he went to buy junk food. When he returned, he threw a bottle of water and chocolate-covered raisins at Sid, which he knew Sid wouldn’t resist.

“This is sabotage,” Sid accused even as he popped a handful of raisins into his mouth. Zhenya probably didn’t really know the word, but he laughed like a villain just the same.

Toronto’s win had Vladimir cheerfully jumbling English and Russian words for Sid to untangle as they shuffled out together. The group got split up in the crowd, but they all knew where the car was parked, so Sid didn’t worry about exiting only with Vladimir.

When they reached the parking lot, the crowd dispersed until they were walking alone. Vladimir clapped Sid on the back. “Good boy.”

Sid absolutely could not help the smile pulling at his mouth at that, but apparently, Vladimir had more to say in Russian.

“You want us to like you.”

At least, that’s what Sid thought he said--the gist. Sid nodded. “Yes.”

Vladimir nodded and patted his back again. “We like you. You’re a nice boy, good to Zhenya. I know you will--” Sid lost him in a string of longer words. He went slow, but Sid was still pretty novice at the language.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“You love Zhenya,” Vladimir said slowly in muddled English.

“Oh--well. Yes. Of course I do. I love him so much.”

“Good,” Vladimir continued. “Zhenya very happy.”

Sid’s heart swelled, and his throat felt tight. “Oh, well...I’m really happy with him, too.”

Vladimir looked like he might try to say more, like he had something important right on the tip of his tongue, but that’s when the rest of the group came into their sight, converging on the car. Vladimir dropped whatever he was about to say and turned to get into the car, leaving Sid perplexed but relieved to know that at least Vladimir approved of him for his son.

*****

In the morning, Sid jolted awake from a light sleep, nerves already tangling up inside him at the prospect of the day’s game. Canada versus Russia--again.

“Okay?” Zhenya mumbled, reaching for Sid as he spoke.

“Yeah,” Sid replied. He turned to cuddle in close and put his head on Zhenya’s chest.

“Worry about game?”

“Maybe. Is that crazy?”

Zhenya stayed quiet for a long pause, petting Sid’s shoulder. “We play before.”

“Yeah, but that was before we were--I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. Nothing bad will happen.”

“Even if Canada wins? If we eliminate you from the tournament?”

“Not matter,” Zhenya said, which was confusing. “Play best game. You win, we celebrate. I win, you don’t pout and we celebrate. Okay?”

“So it’s like a win-win,” Sid mused. It was undoubtedly a smart way to think about it. “Okay. Yeah. I can handle that.”

Zhenya made a satisfied sound and pulled Sid’s hand up to kiss his fingers. “Good.”

They had to split up early. With only four teams remaining and a single game being played that evening, both Russia and Canada had scheduled ice for warmups that morning. The teams would be sticking together the rest of the day, with team lunches planned and meetings before the game.

Sid was grateful for the roster Team Canada had brought--a group that was both experienced in championship-level games and familiar enough with each other that they had their routines down. When he got onto the ice for morning skate, nobody looked overly nervous. Nobody needed captaining. Which was great, because he was pretty sure he was the most anxious person on the team.

His suspicions were confirmed when Toews crashed in next to him on passing drills and squinted at him. “Are you going to throw up?”

“What? No.”

“Are you seriously nervous about Russia?”

Yes, but not for the reason Toews thought. “No, man. I’m good, really.”

Toews made an extremely doubtful face but turned back to pay attention to the drills.

At lunch, Toews handed him a mug of tea. “Drink this.” Before Sid could open his mouth to protest, Toews rolled his eyes and said, “It’s not caffeinated, and there’s no sugar. It’s green tea with chamomile. It’ll keep you calm.”

“I’m honestly fine,” Sid tried, but he took the cup. It was interesting to see Toews’ leadership style--bullying, a little bitchy, but obviously effective since Sid found himself sipping the tea with lunch.

“If you score, I’ll send you the brand,” Toews said flatly, and Sid was pretty sure it was supposed to be a joke. He grinned.

“Thanks, bud.”

Toews shrugged, but there was a hint of a smile pulling at his severe mouth.

They got back to the arena three hours before puck drop, and Sid branched off to wander the halls for a while, getting his head in order.

After that, everything about his pregame ritual was set in stone, carved out years ago. Sid didn’t even have to think about it. He got his legs warm on the treadmill, stretched, snacked, kicked a soccer ball around with the boys for a while, then started getting into pads.

“Hey, Sid," Shea called across the room. "Someone at the door for you.”

Sid looked up, incredulous. He was already totally into his pads, pulling on his jersey. “They can’t come in?” he called--nobody was naked. Even if it was Taylor, nobody would mind a woman in the room.

“Ah, definitely not,” Shea laughed, and Sid jumped up to go see.

Zhenya didn’t have any pads on at all yet. He was still dressed in a tracksuit.

“Hey! Shouldn’t you be dressed by now?” Sid laughed, letting the locker room door fall closed behind him.

“I go now. Just want--” Zhenya looked around. The hall was momentarily free of traffic with the majority of people in the locker room or already out on the bench. He dove in and kissed Sid briefly. “Good luck.”

Sid watched him trot away in mute shock that Zhenya would be the one to take the considerable risk of getting caught. Zhenya was the one with everything to lose. Sid might have to answer a few uncomfortable questions, but Zhenya would risk alienating himself from his team back home, incurring their wrath.

Shea grinned up at him when he returned, and Sid wondered how much he really knew. If he suspected anything, he certainly didn’t seem bothered by it.

Between the tea and the good luck kiss, Sid was pretty sure he was going to have some unfortunate new routines when he scored unassisted in the first. It set the pace of the game and put Russia back on their heels. While Russia did score a few, they were playing catch-up to Canada for the rest of the game, and Canada won.

In the handshake line, Zhenya used the grip on Sid’s hand to pull him in and hug him. Again, Sid was surprised at his lack of caution, where Zhenya had previously been so unwilling to be caught buddying up to a Canadian. It felt almost like an announcement, even more so when Zhenya pulled back and studied his face for a beat. For a crazy second, Sid thought Zhenya might lean in and kiss him right there on the ice. Instead, he grinned.

“Good game.”

“Thanks for the luck,” Sid said since it seemed like Zhenya wasn’t too broken up about the loss.

Zhenya chuckled as he let go and moved on to shake the rest of Team Canada’s hands.

The locker room felt energized and celebratory. Somebody connected a phone to a speaker and was blasting pop music. The players were dancing and laughing, loud and boisterous. They all knew they still had games to play, that Canada hadn’t won anything yet, but they were _there_. They’d made it to the final.

Sid knew how time could fly in a cheerful locker room, but he was in no rush to get out. He let himself be pulled into conversations, settled good-natured arguments about what song to play, and even danced--poorly--with Seggy for half a second before he got too embarrassed by it and giggled his way back to his stall to finally get out of his skates.

All told, Sid was a little surprised when he texted Taylor and found out they were still in the building. _waiting 4 u slowpoke_

Guilt about making them wait got Sid moving into the shower.

Sid met up with his parents and Taylor outside the locker room area. They all looked tired but perked up at the sight of him.

“Heck of a game,” his father said, pulling Sid into a one-armed hug.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Taylor looked a little worried about something, wringing her hands, but she threw her arms around his neck. “You finally scored.”

“Hey, they don’t pay me to score. I’m here to win faceoffs and board battles.”

“Sounds pretty lazy to me,” Taylor laughed as she rocked back on her heels. There was still something in her eyes. It made Sid uneasy like she had a secret. His unease settled on a thought--his family was sitting with Zhenya’s parents during the game. Perhaps they hadn’t taken the loss so well.

“Are Zhenya’s parents still here?” Sid asked.

Sid’s heart dropped further when his parents exchanged a look, and his mother said, “They went back to the hotel with him.”

“Already?” Granted, Sid knew he took a long time in the locker room, but he thought Zhenya would wait for him. He didn’t expect him to get through his post-game and bolt. 

“You may want to call him, Sid,” Taylor said, confirming his wary suspicions. “Something was off.”

Well shit. Sid pulled out his phone to text and found one already waiting. _@ hotel_

“Uh, hey guys, I should probably head back and see--”

“Sure, honey, of course,” his mother said.

There was no way to get back to the hotel fast enough for Sid. He was sure he was speeding on the drive. He blindly handed his keys off to the valet when they’d barely come to a stop, heart in his throat. Had Russia found out Zhenya kissed him before the game? Were they mad about the hug on the ice? Or had someone reported back to Metallurg that Zhenya was buddying up to someone from his draft team?

Sid burst into the room and found Zhenya on the couch, looking like he’d maybe been crying. “Sid--” he said in a voice ravaged by emotion.

Sid sat gingerly down with him and pulled him in close. He knew this wasn’t just about losing a game, not even an elimination. There was something more happening here, something tying every weird thing together. “What’s wrong?”

“I--”

It was as far as Zhenya got before his voice broke. He turned his face into Sid’s shirt to hide from him and breathed in trembling heaves.

“Sid?” Zhenya asked when he’d managed to get his voice back under control.

“Yeah?”

“What do you think I come to Pittsburgh?”

Sid’s heart lodged itself firmly in his throat. “Um--Do you mean for a visit?”

“No.”

Oh god.

“I tell team I’m not go on plane with them tomorrow. Not go back to Russia.”

“You told them already?”

Zhenya nodded.

“Oh, Zhenya. Are you sure?”

Zhenya nodded against his chest. “I already think--when I leave Magnitka, I think I--”

“You were already planning to leave?”

“Yes. I don’t know. This summer is really hard. I know you’re not happy--”

“Oh, god, Zhenya. No. Don’t leave your team for me. That’s crazy. I can manage the distance. We’ve been doing it for a while now, right? We can--”

“It’s not for you,” Zhenya interjected. “My parents also think I do for you. My father think it's so stupid, do for boy. It's maybe just little bit, but most it’s for me. I want thing like--date for real. Not worry what team want. I think, when team ask for me not go to Pittsburgh. They are scare--why? Because they know I can leave. So I do.”

Sid hugged Zhenya, unsure how to respond.

“I know this mean I don’t play hockey. I’m okay.” He didn’t sound okay. He seemed like he was breaking his own heart, which Sid could completely understand. He couldn’t imagine giving up hockey and moving to another country.

“What if--” Sid started, and then stopped. He didn’t want to get Zhenya’s hopes up without the ability to follow through. But he knew of at least one player who went undrafted and got signed directly to an NHL team. It wasn’t easy, but it was clearly possible. Maybe it wasn’t a total pipedream. “What if you could still play?” Sid finished. “I mean, there’s no guarantee, but if you’re coming to Pittsburgh…maybe we can talk to the Penguins, see about--”

Zhenya pulled back to stare at him, wide-eyed. “You think I play for Penguins?”

“Maybe. I don’t really know how it works with the draft, the KHL. After we figure out how to break your contract with Metallurg, maybe--we can just sign you.” God, Sid was getting dangerously excited about this. He never knew it could be an option, that Zhenya would actually be willing to leave. Had he known, Sid couldn’t have resisted asking Zhenya to join him a long time ago. “Oh my god. You’re coming to Pittsburgh.”

“You’re really okay? I can buy other house, still be like apart--”

“No way, move in with me. I’ll show you the whole city. We’ll go to Steeler’s games. See the aquarium. Ride the incline. Zhenya, you’re going to love it.”

“I love _you_.”

Sid kissed him. “I love you, too.”

*****

In the morning, Zhenya stayed heavily asleep while Sid ducked into the adjacent room to make some phone calls. He contacted his lawyer first to ask about the first few steps for getting Zhenya into the country long term. Upon finding out that the easiest way would be on a specific type of employment visa for athletes, Sid called the Penguins’ General Manager, Jim, with heart pounding.

“We can’t just poach another team’s contracted player, Sid,” Jim said, but he said it like he was musing on how to do precisely that. Sure enough, he followed up with, “Let me work on it. Have his agent contact us this afternoon. We’ll figure it out.”

Sid hung up feeling impossibly light and checked his watch, then started. He’d been so caught up joyfully planning for Zhenya to join him in the States he almost forgot he still had two championship games to play. He had to attend practice that morning.

Sid got dressed in the semi-darkness of the bedroom, where Zhenya still slept. He couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss his cheek. Zhenya stirred and grabbed Sid’s wrist to roll him into bed like a slow, sleepy alligator.

“I can’t,” Sid said, gently resisting. “I have practice. I’ll be back after, okay?”

Zhenya made a disgruntled noise, but let his fingers slide from Sid’s wrist. Sid touched his hair and forced himself away before he did something foolish like climbing back into bed.

After practice, Sid hovered outside of his parents’ door for a few minutes talking to himself before he knocked and nervously spoke to them about the situation.

“Zhenya--he’s been unhappy with his team for a while, I think. They, um--they’re pretty controlling. He doesn’t really get to travel how he wants, go certain places. So...”

“Oh my god, are you guys eloping?” Taylor interjected. “Oh my _god_, did you guys already do it?”

“No, of course not.” Though, now that she brought it up, it wasn’t a bad idea if the team visa fell through. He wasn’t sure how it would work with Sid also being a non-citizen, but he’d seen teammates’ spouses do it, so he knew it was possible. “But he’s not going to return to Russia with the team. In fact, they already left, and he was not on that plane. So, um--this is going to be a pretty big blow-up, I think. I figured you guys probably wanted to know ahead of time.”

Sid’s father sat back with an unreadable expression, exchanged a look with his mother, then nodded and said, “Do whatever you need to. We’ll support you both.”

With that approval secured, Sid went to find Zhenya and spend the rest of the day working out how to get Zhenya to Pittsburgh legally.

By the time Sid played the final game of the World Cup against Europe, Zhenya’s visa issues were solved, the media from his home town was calling him a traitor, and he had a plane ticket on the same flight as Sid to return to Pittsburgh, where he would be invited to training camp on a tryout basis.

Sid’s heart flew as he skated the flag of Canada after the win. The whole crowd cheered, but up in the corner, amidst his joyful countrymen, he knew he had Zhenya. It felt like far more of a win than the trophy he hoisted.

They packed up the next morning for a flight in the afternoon. Sid got a very long hug from Natalia, who wept about losing her baby but knew that Sid would look after him. Vladimir clapped his hands on Sid’s shoulders and nodded. “Very good boy,” he said in English and made Sid feel warm with his approval.

After an equally emotional round of hugs with his own family in the airport, Sid’s parents somehow managed to drag Taylor away from Zhenya to get on the plane back to Nova Scotia. Then they were alone together, tucked away in a small café in the airport, waiting for their plane to Pittsburgh.

“You excited?” Sid asked, because he wasn’t sure exactly what to say at a time like this.

Zhenya nodded, but he didn’t smile. He hadn’t said much since leaving the hotel. His phone was, tellingly, off and in his checked luggage.

“Is it bad that I am?” Sid asked sheepishly. He couldn’t help it. Terrible as he knew this period would be for Zhenya, he saw their future now, unclouded by worry about distance and time tearing them apart.

Zhenya’s laugh was nothing more than a sharp exhale, all he could seemingly muster. “No, it’s good. I’m worry before you think like oh no, don’t come.”

It was an obvious joke, halfhearted as it was, but Sid still shook his head emphatically. “Not a chance, bud.”

Zhenya’s forced stretch of lips fell away as he looked down, toying with the lid of his cup. “You really think I play for Penguins?”

“Yeah, of course I do,” Sid replied without hesitation. It was no lie. Seeing how Zhenya shined on a team with players the caliber of Ovechkin and Kucherov, Sid had absolutely no doubt about his ability to hang in the NHL. “I think you’ll kill this tryout and be on the team right away--after they get the contract stuff worked out.”

Zhenya hunched down and swallowed like maybe it wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Sid chased his retreating hand across the table to grasp it.

“And...even if you don’t make the team, you’ll be with me. We’ll be together.”

Zhenya unhunched enough to meet Sid’s eyes. A little hint of his real, untroubled smile came back onto his face, like he was relieved to find Sid would want him without hockey. “Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> There was an epilogue. I guess there still is an epilogue since I never delete anything. But...look. I live on farmland. I can walk outside in summer and stand in the middle of acres and acres of corn and be perfectly happy. And even I thought the epilogue was too corny. 
> 
> **edit: epilogue is on Tumblr now.


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